Red Ink
by Salmiakki Skittles
Summary: A funeral occurs with no prior warning, besides the sudden death of a certain albino Prussian. There was no signs of it happening and this leaves everybody befuddled, except an Austrian man who is determined to discover the reason why Gilbert had passed on and there is more to it than a simple empty casket.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: First of all, the imminent disclaimer. I own neither Hetalia or the nations themselves.

A couple of notes before I begin this, in this fanfiction, nations will live alongside humans under different identities (a human name and a side-line profession) but will live much longer than a normal human. The nation names are simply seen as titles amongst the personifications, hence why the personifications will refer to fellow nations by their human name.

Along with this, while nations will expect dissolved or 'dead' nations to disappear suddenly, but that isn't the case for the sake of this story.

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, today we have come together in this occasion of tragedy, but let us not mourn the passing of a close friend but to celebrate a life."

Sure, it was as simple as that for somebody whom gave these speeches on a weekly basis as employment, but it was much more complicated than that. I honestly don't feel any comfort in this false compassion. One shouldn't make such claims at this sort of morbid occasion. They exist to mourn loss, not to make light of his absence. The attendance was higher than I had anticipated, for somebody with quite the number of enemies, those clothed in the traditional black attire filled well over half of the hall.

"A man of great confidence and inner-strength, those who knew him would always be met with a warm greeting and a contagious smile. He always gave his best effort to all tasks he set himself, for something small like folding laundry or something much more ambitious."

It appears somebody would have assisted the funeral celebrant in writing their speech after all. I suppose she had been dressed in oddly fitting clothing, white with a red rose clipped beneath a name tag reading 'Marianne'. White and red, two colours which quite harshly reminded me of him. White was rather obvious, the moment somebody had laid eyes upon him, they would take notice of his pale hair colour. The next came red… One would say his eyes, but I would disagree. It was much too simple, along with the fact that there was more than simply the hue of his eyes that had to do with the colour red.

Red was said to be colour of passion, correct? He had plenty of that within him, arguably a little too much for certain other's personal liking. His eyes, his passion and one other event… The formal dissolution. Red bathed the man, along with the overpowering scent of blood and those screams.

"He was a passionate man, anybody would agree. Whether in work, or in friendly competition, he strived to achieve he set his mind onto. He was also a gentle man, taking in an orphaned child and raised him as a younger brother, whom I am sure you all know rather well."

In the corner of my eye, I noticed the slight nod of his head that Ludwig gave as silent acknowledgement to her words. His face considerably more solemn than any of the other's I had noticed, he had quite possibly been the most shaken by these events. Despite his usual stern face, I knew what would occur after the ceremony and he departed back home. Ludwig would sit in his backyard with Blackie by his side, only after then would he let his tears run. He was a strong man, taught by another strong man, but there was only so much one could take after all. We may not be human as such, but it wasn't just as simple to break the spirit of a nation. I think this could be the breaking point for Ludwig. I know he isn't aware of this, but I have seen him cry twice before. The first time had been when he had been a child, in fact, before anybody had called him by the title 'Germany'. He wept after realising he would have to leave Feliciano alone to grow up without him.

The second time had been after the time most of us had expected his brother's disappearance. When Ludwig and I had found him lying in an alley, the scent of copper still floods my mind at the thought. Neither of us ever expected to see him in such a weakened, distressed state. This would be the third time. Nobody had realized this would happen without any prior warning, in fact, he should have disappeared after the formal dissolution. This was when we had at least been prepared for the worst, his imminent fading, but he still remained alive. Not as strong as a standing nation, naturally, but alive nonetheless. So why would it happen now?

"Is there anybody whom would like to say a few words of their own?"

Marianne's voice rang out along the halls, a few quiet murmurs were heard afterwards, but nobody had stood up. I turned towards Ludwig, curious if he had prepared anything but his expression read anything less of desire to give a speech. It was understandable afterwards. Elizaveta gave his hands a comforting squeeze and an empty, but warm smile. I glanced around the crowd, as nobody had offered themselves, I stood and took a deep breath, my eyes flickering closed for a moment until I took to making my way to the front of the stand. I cleared my breath then began to speak.

"For somebody who knew Gilbert for many years, some might say I knew him for all of his qualities. Those commendable and those which aren't as desirable. Now is not the time for personal grudges though, feuds should end with death, if not before. Although I do regret one action, or rather not taking the time to do one action."

My throat felt dry, although now I was a little too preoccupied from keeping myself from breaking down in front of everybody. What would Gilbert say if I lost my composure during a speech? He would never let me live it down.

"I never apologised for past arguments, as I expected him to be making the effort as ignorance left me to believe that I was correct. I never gave a spare moment to think of why he may say something, even if he was trying to help me, in his own way of jest. I never… I…"

If the dryness hadn't been enough, it felt as if a stone had now caught within my throat. The crowd had also steadily become more blurred as I felt a warm tear slide down the side of my left cheek. No wonder these glasses had been fogging up. I took a second deep breath to recollect myself, looking down towards my feet then clearing my throat, my eyes returning back to the funeral-goers.

"And… I never told him one last important thing. That… Ich liebe dich, Gilbert."

The looks on the crowd's faces said enough. Why would Roderich, rather the nation of Austria, fall for one of his lifelong enemies? Nonetheless, there wasn't a way that I could hold in this confession. Waiting dozens of years was terrible enough, let alone confessing to a man whom laid within a casket behind of me. The warm trickles continued flowing, I was beyond caring at this point. There was no use hiding pain behind a smile, look at what it had already caused?

Nobody knew what had been happening to him, Gilbert kept everything locked behind a smiling façade. Probably the only one to know of the truth was the ink in his diaries.

"Wait…" I muttered to myself softly. His diaries could have the answer within them. I lifted the glasses off of my face and gently slid them into my breast pocket, they were only going to get in the way regardless since they were fogged as anything.

I simply left the front of the crowd, making my way down the isle of the church swiftly. Gilbert had possessed strong religious beliefs in the past, it was only a natural decision to what form of funeral Ludwig and I would organise for him. I ignored the surprised stares and un-approving looks of the other attendants, there were more pressing issues at hand, and social matters and such could wait. I needed to know what had caused his disappearance and quite frankly, I will find out whether it costs me the remainder of my life or sanity.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Here is the next chapter of Red Ink, I will be aiming to update this story in the very least on a weekly basis. Possibly more chapters will be posted depending on my schedule.

Now for the disclaimer, I own nothing but the story itself.

* * *

The journey home hadn't been all too eventful, besides a number of missed calls and worried voice-mail messages from Elizaveta, nobody had yet tried to stop me. I fumbled with my keys somewhat, taking some time to hold my hands steady to unlock the front door. To think they would still be shaking after almost an hour's walk back home.

Pushing the door open, I simply dropped the set of keys into the small ball bowl situated on a desk nearby the door. Ludwig had insisted that everything should have an assigned place, from everything to cutlery to keys. He had insisted on rearranging my house into order the day after Gilbert's disappearance, probably as a way to distract himself from the unexpected news. I must admit that Ludwig had done a rather good job, probably one of the better habits of Gilbert's that he had picked up on in his childhood. Who would have thought that a loud, egotistic idiot could secretly harbor that type of trait within him?

"There is no use thinking about that now…"

I muttered to myself, running a hand through my now messed hair and exhaled heavily. It was true. Gilbert wouldn't be around to pester me again, honestly, I would have thought that not having to deal with that ever again would relief me. If anything, it only made me feel worse. Not having a man walk by to smudge my glasses then run off cackling to himself would be less of a bother, but I suppose it would have been rather amusing to him.

Walking by the kitchen, I eyed a stack of papers and cringed slightly. Paperwork certainly wasn't a hobby of mine, but this was bound to be investigative paperwork and such sent from the police. Elizaveta must have left them there this morning after Ludwig and I left her here to prepare for the funeral after the first police interview had ended. Honestly the last thing that I had felt like going through at the moment. Walking straight past the pile, I made my way towards the refrigerator, taking out a slice of cake and took a spoon from the drawer. Seating myself at the table, I pulled the papers towards me and read over the first couple of paragraphs. It consisted of little more than biographical details of Gilbert. It was odd, how we seemed to blend in with the rest of society without too much complication. Naturally, we had become rather good at it after hundreds of years practicing such.

"Name, Gilbert Beilschmidt. Date of birth, fourteenth of January, 1989. Date of death, twenty-third of April, 2013... Well, the name and date of death are correct."

I muttered once again, before eating a small spoonful of cake. It honestly hadn't tasted all too sweet. Was it just a different recipe, or was I really that badly affected by the funeral? Shaking my head lightly, I continued reading down the page. It wasn't anything that I hadn't already known, if anything, there was much less than what I knew. Wait… That was something that I hadn't known.

"Mister Beilschmidt was last seen departing the Sibirjak from Berlin at Moscow, records conformed to the dates from which he had last been seen departing the train station."

I read over that particular line a number of times, letting it sink it. Wait… Why would Gilbert be travelling to Russia of all of the countries to visit? I was certain that he had sworn never to set a foot in Russia after certain events, Gilbert hated Ivan Braginski more than I have ever seen a man hate another. Besides that line, it hadn't given any further insight into the reason for his death or even his reasoning for the unannounced trip to Moscow.

"It appears I will have to do some research of my own after all…"

I stood up from the table, leaving table as it was, including the papers scatted around and the half-eaten slice of cake. Taking a brown coat hung upon one of the hooks Ludwig had installed as a part of his 'Project: Remodel Roderich's House', I took the set of house keys once again and left once again. Possibly some of the attendants of the funeral may still be there and will be able to offer me some insight into my questions.


	3. Chapter 3

"Three o'clock. It isn't too late…"

I murmured to myself as I looked down at my wristwatch, I wouldn't think that too many people would have left the church by now. Besides, there were a certain number of people whom I wished to have a couple of words with. Namely Ludwig and Ivan Braginski. If there was any one or two people who I think would have any new information, I honestly would place my money on those two. Ludwig generally tend to hold somewhat of a sound understanding of Gilbert's motives, whilst the Russian man, I would be asking for a different, yet related, reason. Although naturally, I would have to word my questions carefully. If there was any suspicion on my part of the man, I would be sure that I would be receiving a less-than-pleasant welcome.

Meanwhile, I should just concentrate on the questions themselves, rather than the reactions of asking said questions. I outstretched the fingers on my rights hand and counted. First question I should ask, 'When was the last time you had seen Gilbert?' No… Too forward. 'It was a shame Gilbert had departed so unexpectedly. I hope you may have had the chance to make peace with him?' There. Subtle, yet open for discussion. Rather clever, if I don't say so myself.

The second question, well depending how well the first was taken, this may or may not be a wise thing to decide upon now. I suppose I could get along with just the first question, providing that I ask the correct follow-up questions. There is a chance that either one of the two may let an important piece of information slip.

By the end of my internal rambling, I had arrived at the church for the second time today. It appears I spent a lot more time preoccupied with my thought than I had anticipated. A blur of voices could definitely be heard, the ceremony had quite obviously ended, but only in the past couple of minutes judging by the amount of chatter heard from outside of the building where I currently stood. Making my way as discreetly as I could manage, I found my way over towards both Ludwig and Elizaveta. Both had been engaged in a conversation with Feliciano, or rather, Feliciano was trying to comfort a solemn German in the form of hugging whilst Elizaveta unsuccessfully tried to talk Feliciano out of it. I wouldn't say that was too much out of the ordinary. I continued looking around the main area, particularly looking for the Russian. For a man of his stature, he wasn't the simplest of people to find amongst this crowd. Excusing myself as I passed through several groups, the most success I had in finding Ivan was instead finding his older sister.

"Miss Braginskaya, it is lovely to see you again."

I gave her a simple smile out of politeness, not wanting to appear too discourteous. After all, I was going to try attaining some information from her. The Ukrainian woman gave a slight wave and smiled warmly back. Not having all too much contact with her, she did truly seem a kind woman at heart.

"Oh Roderich! It is nice to see that you have come back, I guess you would have been rather upset."

I grimaced internally at the memory, it was a rather childish action on my part. Instead of giving a snappy remark in reply, I took a deep breath and nodded softly. It wasn't as if she had been lying after all.

"Yes, that is quite true. I needed a moment to regain my composure, a bit of fresh air had certainly helped with that. It is nice that you, along with your family, have come along today."

She appeared a little flustered by my answer, as she looked down at the ground in an almost embarrassed manner, rubbing her back on the back of her neck before letting a soft chuckle escape then meeting my eyes once more.

"Of course we would come. I know that there may have been a bit of tension between Gilbert and Ivan in particular, but my brother was rather upset when he had heard the news. He kept blaming himself for it, although I am not being too sure why. Oh look! I am rambling on a little…"

Curious indeed… That must have meant that Ivan had been responsible for something, if he were to feel guilty. It was only natural, was it not? Now the question is, what exactly had he been guilty for doing? Surely it would have to be something rather severe, otherwise he wouldn't guilt himself into believing that he had been responsible for Gilbert's death. What could it be though? If it was a murder, Ivan wouldn't openly admit to feeling guilty. That is just idiotic to think somebody would just openly confess to an action that gruesome. Although… Ivan's personality doesn't exactly help his case in proving his innocence. The man seemed as stable as a drunkard with a broken leg. In my experience with drunken idiots, that wasn't all too much. Moving the thought aside, I answered her with the same well-mannered tone.

"It is quite alright, I don't mind all too much. It is true after all, a death would upset anybody, Gilbert and Ivan of them didn't exactly have the best relationship between the two…"

I adjusted my glasses slightly, giving the most charming smile that I could muster in the moment. Hopefully it would help with persuading her to answer my questions, a lesson that Francis had unknowingly taught me, the right smile could help you in any situation.

"… Although I wonder, did the two ever have a chance to make peace with one another?"


End file.
